


Dead People Radio

by 1PB2PB3PB4



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry feels really guilty, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1PB2PB3PB4/pseuds/1PB2PB3PB4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hears them. He <em>always<em> hears them. All the damn time.</em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead People Radio

**Author's Note:**

> So while this is not part of Death being a Douche, it does still fit in there as an effect of Death's plan.  
> Also Harry is very not happy so yeah, enjoy sorry for any mistakes.  
> Oh and I say "damn" twice, so if that offends you, you have been warned.

The thing is though, now he hears them. He _always _hears them. All the damn time.__  
You wouldn't think it suprising that "The Master of Death" could hear the dead. Whispering. Chattering like bats. Hushing whenever he focused on them. But always whispering chilling, haunting things whenever his mind switched off. So what might suprise you then, is that he couldn't. Not really. He became "The Master of Death", life continued as normal, until it didn't. There was no slow spiralling journey that he felt was out of his control, nor any sudden shock. He just realised that he could hear them. All of them. All of them who had died for him.  
"For you? You think they died for you?" whispers part of his brain," it was all a lot bigger than that."  
The cacophony of voices he'd dismissed as his concious, is suddenly more. They're his friends. His _dead _friends. Who accuse him for letting them die,for sitting in this dank hole surrounded by preservations of the dead and not living his life.__  
Unlike the life they had stolen from them.  
They blame him, and curse him, and fault him, and say:  
"Do better".  
"stop pitying yourself-you have your life, don't be sad your friends are gone, they finally got a clue" Cedric hisses nastily.  
Or, at least he wishes they would. Because he deserves it he knows he does, it's what he should hear. He just doesn't get why they don't say it.  
But Lupin says the wolf is at peace, and his dad is happy to have the company of his old friends -even if he is sad that his friends have died. His mum says she is so proud-how can she be proud of him with the blood on his hands? Red, red the colour of her hair.  
Sirius and Moody and Dumbledore and Cedric seem just as content with the fact that they are dead and he's alive. Cedric keeps asking after Ron and Hermionie. Soon it's just Hermionie, (and Harry doesn't want to admit it; but he knows why Cedric stopped.)  
He doesn't know how to explain he hasn't talked to them in-too long. He doesn't know how long, but it's too long. He let them slip through his fingers like sand.  
Dobby was buried under sand. He should know-he dug the grave. He thinks Dobby would prefer it outside to in this house, being a free elf and all.  
He wants them to go. To let him sink down and fall, like Dumbledore did off the astronomy tower. As he watched and let Snape... Snape is cutting with his word still, but not in the way he wants. As he sits there in his chair, day in, day out, like in the days of school,  
So long ago. Where he had less guilt. His hands were white. But cursed. Quirrel burned when he touched them.  
Snape remarks Potter needs to comb his hair or he'll lose house points, which reminds him of Petunia and Vernon and days best forgotten of number 4 Privet Drive. Forgotten. Like Mad-Eye. with his body never found.  
But they won't let him go. They say they don't blame him. But how can't they?  
He just wishes he didn't hear them. Always hearing them. Not twittering or chattering or cursing-but talking. In soft voices saying  
"It's not okay, but it will be."  
And maybe it will.  
He does hear them. All. The damn. Time.  
He always hears them.  
And they will _never _, leave him alone.__


End file.
